


Incoherent

by unmeiboy



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 00:24:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3337628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unmeiboy/pseuds/unmeiboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the anon kink meme, for the prompt: <i>Senga holds Fujigaya down and fucks him until he comes without getting touched.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Incoherent

“You're such a tease,” Senga hisses when they enter his apartment, and even though Fujigaya looks back at him like he's innocent, the first thing he does is to bend over, legs straight as he unties his shoes. For once he's not wearing the loose jeans he got from senpai, has changed them for a couple of slightly tighter ones; they look good on him, especially when he's trying to show off his ass like that.

“Me? A tease?” Fujigaya smirks as he falls back onto the mattress, shirt open most of the way; Senga pops the last buttons and immediately gets started on his pants as their lips come together. It's hot, nearly desperate, and he can tell that Fujigaya is just as affected by his own teasing as Senga is after having been teased. “I would never...”  
“Just shut up.” The jeans are tugged off, quickly followed by Senga's shirt; Fujigaya still has his arms in his, but it's pushed all the way apart to reveal his smooth skin.

He barely has the time to play with Fujigaya's body, listen to his sounds and feel his reactions, before a bottle of lubrication is pushed against his shoulder and he looks up from where he's licking at one of Fujigaya's nipples. Their eyes meet, Fujigaya whines and pushes up, rolls his hips against Senga's. To be fair, he wants to touch and kiss a little more, make his skin flush red, give him payback for all the sneaky, flirty touches throughout the day, but when Fujigaya looks at him like that, hair messy and eyes hooded and dark, he just accepts the bottle and withdraws from his chest.  
“Come _on_ ,” Fujigaya urges him on as he gets off the bed to step out of his own pants and underwear, then spreads his legs while Senga pops the cap and coats a couple of fingers with lube.

The stretching is quick but thorough, Senga taking more care than Fujigaya seems to want him to, especially when he finds a spot inside that makes his back arch and his cock jump. Senga keeps brushing lightly against it, rhythmically and at a pace that doesn't satisfy Fujigaya at all, has him writhing on the bed within a dozen strokes. When Fujigaya can't take it anymore, when he's pushing back against the fingers with desperation in his moans, he pulls them out. Now it's Senga smirking, at how he bites his lip while Senga touches his own erection, spreads lubrication over it.  
“Up,” and he doesn't say more; Fujigaya gets the hint, turns around, gets on his hands and knees and waits. Senga doesn't hesitate to push inside, groans as he does, hears Fujigaya make a similar sound, and even if he had wanted to wait, make sure Fujigaya is ready, he doesn't get a chance. He hears himself choke on his breath when everything tightens and Fujigaya pushes back against him, takes him in deeper. The sight alone, of Fujigaya pushing him in and out on his own while on all fours like that, sends a stream of hot arousal right to his groin, joined by the physical pleasure, and Senga isn't sure whether he wants him to continue or not. However he gets tired of the slow pace, and it doesn't take more than a slow thrust and a hand to his hip to stop him; he stills, lets himself be rocked by the rhythm Senga sets instead.  
“Faster,” he breathes, so low that Senga nearly doesn't catch it. But he does, or at least he thinks he does, speeds up and thrusts a little harder, and judging by the sound Fujigaya lets out, he figures that he's got it right.

Senga's muscles are strong from dancing; he keeps the position until Fujigaya's moans rise an octave and he sneaks a hand between his legs. It's obvious when it wraps around his cock and jerks, his body tenses and the way his arm moves is unmistakable. Senga doesn't slow down, though, all he does is let one of the hands on Fujigaya's hips slide down to grab his wrist and shove it away from there.  
“Fuck you,” Fujigaya curses at him, but it's halfhearted, considering the way he moans only seconds later. Senga smirks, stops, pulls out, and when he shoves at him to turn him onto his back again, the way he does it might be a little rough.

He falls back onto the covers, a demanding look in his eyes as he parts his thighs, and Senga gives a short laugh.  
“Slut.” Fujigaya doesn't seem at all opposed to be called that, at least not as long as Senga puts his cock back inside him - which he does. He goes straight back to the pace he had built earlier, perhaps even faster, and again Fujigaya's hand wraps around his cock. He's so hard, wet at the tip too, Senga notices, and it makes complete sense that he wants to touch it. “No,” he says to him anyway, and something changes in his eyes, changes into something Senga hasn't seen in them before, at least not in bed. What he sees looks like challenge, like he wants to tell Senga that he get what he wants and comes when he wants to.

Senga responds to that challenge, grabs his wrists, both of them, shoves them down on each side of Fujigaya's shoulders. And in the middle of his arousal he almost looks upset, even though the soft noises that leave him with every thrust indicate that he's getting closer and closer to an orgasm. His eyes tell that he's assuming he won't get to touch himself, that Senga is going to be the one to decide, that he doesn't deserve to get off just yet.

So instead he focuses on the grip Senga has on him, strong arms tense when he glances at them, the muscles moving a little bit under the skin as he moves. And he focuses on the further increased force in the thrusts, how Senga fucks him into the mattress, feels the friction on the inside clearer than he would have if he had been getting some against his cock as well. He feels it bounce a little against his lower stomach, hard, heavy, and it twitches when Senga hits him almost right but not completely. A small movement, just angling his hips a tiny bit, rocking back into Senga's thrusts, he gets it where he wants it, though.

Suddenly Fujigaya throws his head back with a moan that leaves him a little out of breath; then again, and again, and his breathing speeds up rapidly. Between one of his noises it sounds like he curses, like before, but this time Senga can't tell if it's positive or negative. He knows exactly what's going on, knows that he's angled right against Fujigaya's prostate and that it's driving him crazy to not be able to come when he is so, so close. But he keeps it up, enjoys the mix of pleasure and frustration on Fujigaya's face, his weak attempts to get his hands loose, the conflicted sounds he makes when he can't seem to decide if it's just good, or if it's just annoying that it's so good.

Senga should have expected it when his noises grow in volume, when his body starts tensing, when he chokes on his breath, gasps again and again, yet for a second neither of them realize what's happening. Fujigaya keeps his eyes closed as his body arches and squeezes tight around Senga, and Senga in turn releases his wrists and leans back when he feels something moist hit his own lower stomach. What he finds doesn't surprise him after what he has seen and felt; Fujigaya has come, untouched, and judging by the look on his face, it's the most intense orgasm he has ever had.

It's almost like he's mute, as if he can't do anything but breathe, watch and feel as Senga continues pounding into him, while his entire body shudders, shivers, muscles contracting in long waves of lingering pleasure. It's different, so much _more_ , and he just stays like that, speechless, only quiet little moans escaping him at the rougher thrusts. Now Senga's hands are on his hips, holding him in place as he fucks him hard, the grip on them stronger the further he holds out. By the time he finishes the hands are holding him so tight that there might be bruises later, but Fujigaya doesn't even think of that, not when Senga's hips flex on their own as he groans deep in his throat.

“Amazing,” Fujigaya breathes as Senga settles next to him, buries his face in a pillow, exhausted but satisfied. “Do that again.”  
“No.” A few seconds of silence, broken by the rustling of sheets when Fujigaya turns towards him, strokes down his arm with a feather-light touch. “... Maybe later.”


End file.
